


Carry On

by JohnLockDivision



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnLockDivision/pseuds/JohnLockDivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on 'Carry On' by Fun. For the 'LetswriteSherlock' challenge on Tumblr. Set pre-post Reichenback</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On

Sherlock woke up in their bed to the sound of silence, the only sound he could hear that of cars passing beneath his window.

Pulling on some pyjama bottoms, he padded into the living room where he found that John had returned from his parent’s and was now staring down into the street, upset and gripping a (full) bottle of wine in his hand. Sherlock reasoned that its presence alone was of more comfort than the guilt John would gain through drinking it.  

“John?”

“Hi, love.”

“What’s wrong?”  

This seemed to be the wrong thing to ask, as suddenly John was swearing and the bottle of wine was on the floor.  

“I told you Sherlock! We’re not celebrities! You’re not some freak show circus for them to parade about...”

“I know, John.”

“Then just, please. Stay out of the limelight for a bit? For me? We don’t need the attention, especially not now...” 

John suddenly looked tired, as if the last few days had finally caught up to him. 

“What happened, John?”

“They hate me. My parents hate me Sherlock.” 

Sherlock wasn’t the best at emotions, but he had been getting better and knew that now was not the time for words. He led John into the bedroom and spent the remainder of the night showing him how much he cared with every touch, convincing him that he was better without his parents with every caress.

 

As morning began to touch Baker street, Sherlock turned his gaze upon the sleeping form curled into him. His brave soldier, who had saved him when he was lost and alone, and yet seemed to be sinking with him now. He marvelled at his resilience, and considered the courage he would need in order to walk away from his past and his family and stay besides him through The Game, but he would do it all for Sherlock.

And Sherlock loved him for it.

 

**

 

Sherlock looked about the bar, checking for anyone recognisable as a threat – be it Media or Moriarty – and only when he was satisfied did he turn back to Molly.

 

“Molly, I’m going to die.”

“Um, ok. I mean everyone dies at some point...”

“No, I mean I’m going to die soon – and I need your help.”

 

**

 

“Goodbye John.”

 

Sherlock died.

Sherlock survived.

He had cheated death.

 

He spent the next three years travelling the world, taking out Moriarty’s web, only returning to London rarely and briefly.

The times he did return, he was amazed to find that John hadn’t given up on him.

He didn’t write his blog, but he kept a journal.

He didn’t visit his grave, but still begged Sherlock to return.

He didn’t write the graffiti, but he still believed in Sherlock Holmes.

He barely did anything else.

Sherlock barely recognised him.

 

Sherlock realised that although he wasn’t a ghost, it seemed to be that John was becoming one – fading away from society, with only his belief in Sherlock to anchor him.

So Sherlock sent him notes.

 

_You’re lost, but you’re not alone._

_Carry on_

_I believe in John Watson_

**

 

Eventually Sherlock returned to 221B, and found himself on the floor looking up at John. He felt like his head was on fire (despite John’s weight loss, it seemed he could still throw a good punch) and he noticed John’s cane lying next to the sofa, noting he had apparently cured his limp once again. 

 

**

 

Returning from the dead was easy.

Returning to life was not.

Having finally made it home after the media frenzy, Sherlock was overwhelmed by the look in John’s eyes as he shut the door to their flat.

Sherlock moved across to him, still unsure, and reached over John’s shoulder to lock the door, as John simultaneously silenced his phone and began to remove his jumper, before finally embracing Sherlock and raising his head for a long awaited kiss.

Sherlock felt unstoppable.

 **

Lying in bed next to John, he knew everyone was wrong.

John shone as much as any star – he made Sherlock feel invincible. The thought of him had kept Sherlock going on his darkest day, despite the distance between them, and now he had finally made his way home he was never leaving again.

Sink or swim, they would do it together, and would carry on as always.


End file.
